


If This Is What You Want Then Fire At Will

by exquisiteagony



Series: So That's How it's Going to Be [3]
Category: Dope (US Band), Murderdolls (Band), Wednesday 13 (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Again, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bondage, Brat, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Drooling, Enemies to Friends, Face Slapping, Finger Sucking, Hand Kink, Humiliation, M/M, Mirrors, Praise, Spanking, Stripping, Teasing, body fluids, enemies to fuck buddies, for like five seconds - Freeform, handjobs, hes tied to a pole with a belt??, humping, kind of, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exquisiteagony/pseuds/exquisiteagony
Summary: Wednesday wants to talk or fight his rivalry with Edsel Dope out. It doesn’t necessarily go the way he intended, not that he’s complaining.
Relationships: Joseph Poole | Wednesday 13/ Edsel Dope
Series: So That's How it's Going to Be [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970494
Kudos: 8





	If This Is What You Want Then Fire At Will

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Thank You For The Venom by MCR. The fic no one asked for but I wanted to write. Also given the amount of Nena I listened to whilst editing it its surprisingly not angsty lol.  
> Edit: summary had a typo so I’ve changed it back

Maybe he had been riling up Edsel on purpose all day. Maybe he had been trying to piss him off. What of it?

Look, Edsel hated him and had no qualms about letting everyone know that, and quite frankly Wednesday had just wanted to hash it all out in person, but then Edsel proved to be so easy to annoy that Wednesday decided to try to rile him up to a fight instead, which was probably a dreadful idea, but Wednesday had stopped trying to be smart a long time ago.

Now it was after Dope’s set, which he couldn’t believe he’d shilled money out to see (okay it was for Racci), and Edsel had only snarked back a few times before ignoring him, even as Wednesday went so far as to try and divert any groupies away from him, to really annoy him.

He finally gave up, and after saying a farewell to Racci and nodding one at Virus and whoever the new bassist was (it began with B, but past that it was a mystery), and left the venue. Some things just weren’t meant to be, and now Edsel had the forbearance to rival any one of the stupid fucking saints drilled into Wednesday’s head in school, refusing to give in despite how obviously mad he was.

Stupid school. 

Stupid Edsel.

Stupid everything.

He kicked at a can, sulking to himself as he passed Dope’s tourbus.

Then a hand grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him back a few steps. He squealed but didn’t moan.

“I’m not letting you go this easily, you little bitch,” Edsel spat darkly, so close behind him he could feel the warmer air on his neck.

“Certainly had me fooled,” Wednesday snarked back, stopping to turn and face him. “You wanna go _now_ , huh?”

Edsel chuckled darkly. “You’ve been cock-blocking me all fucking night. Well,” he allowed, a smirk curling one side of his face, cruel and wolfish enough to make Wednesday shudder, “that’s certainly one way to get my attention.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” Wednesday goaded, leaning towards the taller man. “You gonna just stand here so we can bitch and moan, or are we gonna fight it out?”

Edsel scoffed and shook his head, taking a step back for a second. “Oh, talking is dull, and fighting would be fair. But you stole my chances of getting laid, so I’m not in the mood to fight fair.”

The image Wednesday translated his words into was lurid enough to make him blush, glad it was so dark that Edsel couldn’t see his cheeks. “You gonna fight dirty?” he said.

He would not be outdone by Edsel tonight.

“Well,” Edsel just mused like he was toying with him, smirking properly now, leaning down to Wednesday, who was wondering if he was in too deep, “dirty’s one word for it. Not sure if you’d call it fighting, per se.” He leant back, grinning at his own stupid joke.

“How do you know for sure I even want anything to do with you that isn’t fighting or arguing?” Wednesday refused to give in despite how hard he was, stubborn as a mule. “How do you know I’d even say yes to what you want?”

“Oh, Acey told us about a night he had a long time ago, with a bratty little being dragster in North Carolina who dreamed about being someone’s bitch, who wanted to jerk off to the image of being his bitch. And I never even said I’d fuck you, and you’re already blushing like you want me to.” He reached out to touch Wednesday’s face, fingers stroking his cheek almost tenderly before gripping his jaw.

Goddamnit. Wednesday’s cheeks darkened, even the mention of Charlotte making him harden instinctively, Edsel’s hand on his face, holding him so possessively, already doing something to him.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t what he’d had planned for tonight, but he couldn’t deny that he’d found Edsel hot ever since he’d first laid eyes on him. Meeting him back in ‘98, trying to hide how transfixed he was by Edsel’s hands as he watched him sign a poster for him, had cemented that. Those fingers had been haunting his dreams for ages, and-

There was only one thing to do; throw himself into the situation with reckless abandon.

Yeah. Getting absolutely railed by Edsel hadn’t been his initial plan, but the idea was looking better and better in his mind.

Even though there was one minor setback.

He’d wanted to fight him all day, and the thought he’d had whilst getting dressed that afternoon of Edsel Dope losing a fight to a man in panties had been hilarious, so he’d worn them.

Now he was beginning to give his underwear choice a second thought.

“Maybe I do. But what would you have me do? Blow you? Would you fuck me?”

“I’d make you fucking beg for it first,” Edsel snarled, his fingers digging in before he let go. “I’ll make you my bitch.”

Wednesday sucked in a breath, eyes widening, and let his breath shudder out as he imaged how that would go.

Every word of Edsel’s, aided by his overactive imagination, had gone straight to his cock, and it was taking a lot of self restraint not to indulge in noises or touches yet. Even wriggling to try to ease the tension in his pants was out of the question, but nothing escaped the New Yorker.

Edsel chuckled darkly. “I take it you want that?” He stepped forward even more, giving him an up-and-down look.

Wednesday nodded, gulping, somehow standing his ground enough to not step back, even though if he stepped forward any more Edsel would probably be able to fucking feel how hard he was.

“Say it. I want to hear you say it.”

“F-f-f-” he blushed so hard it felt like his face was on fire, unable to look away from Edsel. “I want you to fuck me. I want- I want you to-” He finally broke eye contact, biting his lip.

He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. If he tried to be thought he might fucking combust on the spot, leaving a smudge of ash on the tarmac that was once Wednesday 13; here lies Joseph Poole, who died from being too ashamed to admit how horny he was out loud.

“You want me to make you my bitch.” Edsel’s smirk was more calculating now, cool and distant like he was discussing the fucking weather.

It made Wednesday harder.

“Yes.” Wednesday’s voice quietened to near-silence, his admission a whine that discoloured his cheeks.

Edsel took yet another step forward, his leg now pressing into Wednesday between his legs.

He squeaked at the sudden pressure, right against his crotch, and it was taking every iota of self control to not rub against his thigh, too proud to step back. Edsel grabbed his chin again before he could even try to summon the dignity to step back, and lowered his head again so he was almost nose to nose with him. His chuckle at Wednesday’s hard-on sent more arousal flooding south.

“God, you’re so slutty you’d rut against me if I told you to. And you’ve made a name for yourself as this big bad boogie man - the ‘Duke of Spook’ - when you’re really just a whiny brat begging to be fucked.”

Wednesday didn’t know exactly what tone of voice Edsel was using, but it was adjacent enough to disgust to make him whimper. He was frozen, eyes wide and eyebrows pulled down in defiance again, fists clenched tightly near his waist like he was pretending he was as pissed as Edsel was calm.

His eyes, darting between fixing Edsel’s steely grey gaze and trying to stare at the ground instead, were perhaps the biggest give that he was losing himself.

Look, he might be putty in Edsel’s hands, but he could also amp up the defiance and brattiness to get a rise out of him. It would cost him nothing but his dignity, which was pretty much in tatters on the floor already, so there was nothing to lose.

“Am I really?” he breathed, trying for challenging. “Am I really such a whore?”

Edsel scrunched one side of his nose up, eyes flashing dangerously in triumph. “Yeah. You’re a bratty little whore who should have been put in his place a long, long time ago.” As he spoke, Edsel lowered his free hand to cup at Wednesday’s bulging pants and gave a little squeeze, and he grit his teeth to hold back a moan at the friction. He was left unwilling to step back and too shamed to step forward; pulled between normalcy and desire. 

“Oh, and are _you_ gonna be the one to do that?” But he was grinding against Edsel’s hand as he spoke, and his voice was strangled from the effort of pretending nonchalance.

He was already gone, and they both knew it.

“You can bet your sweet little ass I am,” Edsel growled with a terrifyingly sunny smile, releasing his crotch to give his cheek a little swat that made him moan, still gripping his chin. Wednesday jolted at the swat, and rubbed against the pressure against his bulge, sweating and needy. “Look at you, rutting against my thigh like a bitch in heat. You’re a filthy little slut.”

Then he released him and stepped away, and Wednesday sucked in a juddery breath, because holy fuck. Edsel knew what to say to bring him to pieces, and it was all he could do to not fall at his knees and plead for more. He was right in the palm of Edsel’s hand, and Edsel was enjoying this as much as he was.

He was fucked.

“Oh, fuck you,” he whined, catching his breath, a hand swinging round to prop him against the bus, trying to will his boner away to get some fucking composure. “You’re the one who’s making me.”

“Quit your bitching. I’ll fuck you properly, don’t worry. Unless you’d rather go back to your hotel room and jerk off to the thought of what could have been,” Edsel replied.

The thought of getting fucked, and the threat of being left to jack off alone made him pitch a tent again. He huffed and gave in to what he really wanted.

“Edsel,” he said, staring into the other man’s eyes as best he could in the dark, “fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Edsel grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the tourbus.

Once on the bus, Edsel pushed him roughly into a floor to ceiling cubbyhole, which was the only really place for them to stand because the rest of the bus looked to be an absolute tip, spun him round, and then pulled him up by his collar to kiss him with one hand whilst his other reached to pin his wrist against the wall.

Wednesday made a surprised noise, a grunt of half-unexpected pleasure at the dominance, and knotted his free hand in Edsel’s dreads to keep him close. Edsel grabbed that free hand to twist it back, holding him tight. Their teeth clacked together, sending achy jolts up his head, but Edsel was moaning into the kiss as much as he was, his nose bumping into Wednesday’s cheekbone as they both all but humped each other.

It was a harsh kiss, possessive in a way that made Wednesday’s blood thrum with pleasure, and when Edsel broke it, Wednesday gasped in breath.

“Shit, you’re a good kisser.”

Edsel just smirked, taking a step back. “Shirt. Off.”

Wednesday blinked, thrown off. “What?”

“Your shirt. Take it off. I said I was gonna make you my bitch, so here I am.”

“Aw,” Wednesday pouted dramatically whilst shrugging his jacket off and unbuttoning his shirt, going slowly to rile Edsel up. “Do bitches not get shirts?”

“No. You’ll be lucky if you’ve still got your boxers on,” Edsel replied, watching him with a smile so icy it made Wednesday want to shiver.

Instead he unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans, turning around to slowly pull them down teasingly. He might not have much of an ass, but he could at least try.

Edsel was implacable. “Yeah, you’re a natural bitch. You like the attention huh? You like being an exhibitionist for me? I bet you do.”

Wednesday’s cock twitched again, so he mumbled a ‘yeah’ and just dropped his pants, toeing his shoes off to get his jeans off properly.

Yeah, his striptease was gonna fuck no one but him.

“Are you really wearing panties?” Edsel’s mockery and incredulity made Wednesday blush.

“I came here to fight you. I thought it would be funny to make you lose a fight to a man in a chick’s underwear,” he admitted, blushing again at how fucking stupid it sounded. Edsel laughed, and he spoke again, emboldened and brazen. “What would you do if I just jerked off here right now?” he said, flaring defiance and stepping towards Edsel.

Edsel grabbed at his wrists with a cold, almost cruel wolfish smile, fingers tight for a second before he let go.

“If I remember correctly, Acey said he tied your hands with his belt.”

Wednesday blushed at the memory, because that was still some of the best sex he’d ever had, and turned to assess his current location.

There was a coat hook in the cubbyhole; one of the old poles that was bolted to the floor and ceiling. Behind it was a series of shelves, each one piled high with shoes and other miscellaneous crap.

But the pole…

He turned back to Edsel, stepped back towards the pole, and grinned. “Oh,” he said, wrapping his arms around the pole behind him, tipping his head back as if he was in supplication to the taller man, eyes wide, “how would you tie me? Would you tie me to the pole? Would you tie me there, and watch me moan for you?”

Despite his exaggerated faux shock, the thought of actually being tied to something, tied somewhere instead of just his limbs tethered together, ignited a particularly brazen part of his mind, and he reached forwards with one hand as if he was about to touch himself.

Edsel darted forwards with a growl that made every hair on Wednesday’s body stand up, and pinned his wrist back behind him. “I don’t think so.” He pulled Wednesday out of the cubbyhole and led him over to the sofa, where he bent him over the armrest. “You’re just asking for a spanking, aren’t you?”

Wednesday whined and arched his back, nodding, and was rewarded with enough spanks for him to begin rutting against the surface beneath him, hands clenching on a cushion, face buried in the couch cushion to muffle his moans. Each slap was far enough apart that the next one landed when his ass was beginning to heat up with the pain, and he closed his eyes in anticipation of them.

Once Edsel had decided he’d had enough of that, he gave Wednesday’s dreads a couple of sharp tugs in a silent order for him to stand up, and then took him back to the cubbyhole, pushing him until his back was against the coat-pole.

He began to unbuckle his belt, and Wednesday threw his head back again, grinning at the ceiling, eyes rolling back and biting his lip again. He was so still it didn’t escape Edsel’s notice. “Oh, you _want_ me to tie you up?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” He returned, giddy with anticipation. “C’mon, Dope. Hurry up!” Wednesday wriggled again, making an absolute menace out of himself.

Edsel snarled and pulled his belt out to tie his hands, yanking the leather around his wrists like he was almost trying to make Wednesday regret asking for this, giving his other cheek a swat.

Wednesday just grinned, almost drunk on glee and longing, suppressing the urge to grind on Edsel just yet.

“You’re a mouthy little bitch who I should spank again until you can’t sit down, and yet you’re making this easier for me to have you at my whim. Well, the question is: are you making it easier for me or harder for yourself?” Edsel finished binding his hands and trailed his own left one down Wednesday’s stomach, fingers snapping the waistband of his underwear to make him squirm whilst his other hand grabbed his jaw again.

“Oh, you want to punish me so bad, don’t you? I’m so fucking rude and mouthy, and you wanna do something about it!” Wednesday said, voice muffled by Edsel’s grip, shuffling his feet about as if that could adjust how uncomfortably tight his underwear was. He jerked his head forwards defiantly, grinning.

He would not back down. If Edsel wanted him begging and submissive, he’d have to put the work in to get him there.

He knew that he was making it worse for himself, but he couldn’t help himself. Being a brat was too irresistible.

“And how exactly should I start?” Edsel said in a voice so low and crooning it made Wednesday quieten, releasing his jaw to brush his thumb over his lips until Wednesday wanted to either scream or suck them. “I’ve warmed you up all good and well already.” He slipped his thumb inside Wednesday’s mouth, eyes flashing in surprise and satisfaction when Wednesday sucked in a brief moment of obedience. “Oh, you certainly do like sucking as much as Acey said you might. Do you want more?”

Wednesday nodded, cheeks dark and only getting darker when he saw the rope of spit along Edsel’s thumb, but then he had two very long fingers in his mouth pumping in and out, and he squeaked around them and sucked eagerly, Edsel’s chuckle at him going right to his underwear and making him leak.

Fuck he was hard. Hard enough to lose brain-cells and at someone’s mercy; just how he decided he liked it.

Wednesday knew he must look like an absolute whore, and a glance in the mirror opposite them showed how his eyeliner had run and smudged down his face, and how his lips were swollen behind Edsel’s fingers. He couldn’t see much more, but what he could see looked debauched and degraded and blissed out.

Good.

When Edsel removed his fingers, Wednesday whined, and Edsel chuckled again, tilting his head like he was looking at an interesting specimen on a petri dish and not a very horny Wednesday 13, running his spit-covered index finger around Wednesday’s lips a few times to tease him. Wednesday closed his eyes, unable to deal with the look on Edsel’s face, unsure if he’d wind up just straight up cumming in his underwear if Edsel kept this up long enough. Edsel pumped his fingers back into his mouth for a few seconds, and then Wednesday could feel his other hand on his cock, fingers ghosting up and down his length through his underwear, sticky with his arousal. He gasped and shuddered, hips chasing the torturously light stimulation, but then Edsel stepped back, and he was left twitching and groaning until he opened his eyes again, steadying his breath, a string of drool dribbling down his chin.

For all that Edsel had been mocking him for grinding on his thigh, he was pretty hard himself, pitching a tent so big he might well not have been joking every time he’d said in interviews that he was hung, and the desire Wednesday felt to blow him nearly had him babbling.

He didn’t think he’d ever wanted to suck someone off this bad before.

Edsel let him bite his lip for a few seconds, watching him visibly trying to drag his gaze away, before smiling so slyly and tightening his fist in Wednesday’s dreads to tip his head up to look him in the eye. Wednesday whined a breath out, trapped in Edsel’s gaze.

“Oh, do you want to blow me?” His voice was soft and endearing enough to nearly be mocking, and Wednesday just nodded, spit swinging humiliatingly. What he said was, “I wanna suck your soul out,” which was definitely the least sexy thing he’d said so far, but Edsel just gave him a conniving little smile.

“Get down, then.” He pushed on Wednesday’s shoulders chivvyingly, and Wednesday awkwardly shuffled down, having to shift a rucksack away with his foot so he could kneel properly. When he was comfortably settled, Edsel began to unzip his pants, slowly despite how hard he was, and Wednesday tugged against the belt, wanting to just yank his underwear down and start and frustrated he couldn’t. Being tired to the coat-pole was a whole ‘nother level of frustration, because he couldn’t even do anything to try to hurry Edsel up.

Edsel brushed his thumb over his lips, smearing his spit round humiliatingly, and then finally let him blow him.

He went slowly, which was a blessing, because Wednesday was really fucking stupid when he was horny and had a habit of trying to take on - or _in_ , heh - more than he could actually take, and yeah. Edsel definitely won the ‘who’s the most hung’ competition.

Then he found his method, and bobbed his head for Edsel to go faster, moaning impatiently. The blood rushing through his ears was not enough to drown out either of their noises, Edsel’s groans of relief and Wednesday’s high moans of needy joy, and the wet noises his blowjob made sent shivers running through him.

When Edsel came, it wasn’t with much of a fanfare, simply with a moan of, “oh, fuck!”. Wednesday kept going until Edsel pulled away, and then Edsel squeezed behind him to crouch over him and grab his chin again before he had the chance to swallow. “Look at you,” he hissed, making Wednesday stare at himself in the mirror, jerking his chin possessively.

The sight he saw in the mirror went straight to his jerk-off folder before he could really even comprehend it, because he was staring at himself, on his knees, panties doing little to hide the worst boner he could ever remember having, with his face in the grip of someone who was inadvertently putting enough pressure on his cheeks for him to dribble down his chest, unable to close his mouth. It was maybe the sluttiest, most debauched he’d ever looked. He whimpered with need, whining against the confines of his underwear, twitching and bucking against some non-existent friction.

Oh god, if Edsel didn’t touch him soon he was pretty sure he’d die from horniness.

Edsel squeezed his cheeks on purpose, and a glob of his cum dribbled out in a bigger trickle than before. “I came in your filthy mouth, and now you’re dribbling it like a messy little bitch. And you’re getting even fucking harder from watching yourself dribble someone else’s cum out of your mouth.” Wednesday could only whine, then dribble and moan as Edsel’s free hand palmed him. His eyes closed at the bliss, but then Edsel let go of him with a snarl of ‘don’t you dare swallow!’. He climbed out of the space between the shelves and the coat-pole and crouched in front of Wednesday again, gripping his chin. “If I’d kept my hand there you could have cum from staring at yourself and humping me, couldn’t you?”

Wednesday nodded slowly, cheeks darkening. Edsel smiled coldly. “You’re a narcissistic little slut.” He landed a third little swat to Wednesday’s cheek, and another, then smoothed his hair back. He was still holding Wednesday’s face too tightly for him to close his mouth, and Wednesday had little choice but to dribble Edsel’s load out in its entirety, blushing and whining at how wonderfully humiliating it was.

Once his mouth was empty, Edsel released his face to help him stand again like he hadn’t just had his own cum dribbled down his wrist.

No sooner than he had stood again, Edsel began to touch him again, one two fingers back in his mouth and his other hand ghosting over his thighs until he was finally enveloping his cock through his underwear, jerking him off as best he could. Wednesday began grinding against that pressure uncontrollably, desperately, moaning in relief, eyes rolling back.

“Aw, you’re so desperate for me, aren’t you? Just wriggling and humping me like a bitch in heat. Does being my bitch turn you on? Will you jerk off to this night? Will you jerk off to the memory of being my slut?”

Every word was sending him more insane, and he was sure he’d cum from this alone.

And then he could feel it build up.

“Please, please, please, please, please,” he mumbled behind the fingers.

But that was the wrong thing to say.

Edse tutted and let go, stepping back with a shake of his head, putting his fingers back. “Nope.”

It was too late. The last pump proved to be the one to make Wednesday finally cum, but the lack of stimulation ruined it, and his orgasm just dribbled out. He made a sobbing noise at the almost painfully gentle orgasm, babbling ‘nononononopleasenoohfuck!’, because he’d been so hard it nearly hurt, and now he couldn’t even enjoy finally cumming.

Afterwards he hung limp against the coat-pole, his underwear nearly swimming in stickiness, and looked up at Edsel, chest heaving.

Edsel looked dumbstruck, like he hadn’t realised what exactly had happened, and then Wednesday watched the realisation hit him.

The bigger man seemed to fly into autopilot, the fingers in his mouth suddenly diving south into Wednesday’s underwear as if to test that he really had just cum from that. He smiled cruelly enough to make Wednesday whimper, trying not to move because the overstimulation nearly hurt (although he kinda wanted it), and then wrapped his hand around his cock and jerked him in his underwear.

Wednesday babbled uncontrollably again, shaking and writhing and snapping his hips into Edsel’s hand because it was yanking him between heaven and hell so much he through he’d white out, and he didn’t know if he wanted to Edsel to stop or to carry on. He didn’t know if he should beg him for more or plead him to stop, and all that did was make him want it more.

In any case Edsel made that choice for him, pulling his hand out, sticky and dripping, staring between said hand and Wednesday in amused shock.

Wednesday thought he might have actually rendered him speechless, but then Edsel finally spoke a few seconds later.

“Did you _really_ just cum from that? Really?”

Wednesday poked his tongue out defensively, but then Edsel smirked, an idea taking hold, and he almost regretted it for a second.

“Well, I’m not gonna fucking deal with this.”

Then he shoved two of his sticky fingers right into Wednesday’s mouth.

Wednesday squeaked in surprise, because _Edsel Fucking Dope_ was the last person he’d expected to do some thing like that, but looked away and started licking. It was actually kinda hot, and honestly, if it was normal and okay to swallow someone else’s cum, swallowing one's own should be equally fine.

Or he was just a fucking slut.

A fucking slut being made to eat his own cum.

Predictably, his cock heard that, twitching and hard and almost ready to go again.

Yeah. He was in over his head, foundering like Edsel was both a lifeline and the reason he needed one, so he moaned and sucked and decided he’d try to not make things ‘worse’ for himself.

“Edsel,” he whined once his ‘little mess’ was cleaned up, “please fuck me.”

For once, Edsel didn’t even try to make him blush for begging. He just undid - Wednesday thought he might have just buckled it instead of trying to tie a knot - the belt and pulled him free.

The blood flowing back into his arms and shoulders made him sigh and groan in relief. Edsel massaged his arms, properly getting the blood flowing without him even having to ask. “Ya good?” he checked. Wednesday nodded. “Then take your ass over to the table and bend over.”

Wednesday whimpered and obeyed.

“No. Hands on the table and bend over,” Edsel corrected. “Yes. And if you dare jizz all over the table and floor I’ll make you clean it up.”

 _With my tongue?_ Wednesday wanted to snark, but considering the past half hour that was a bad idea. How he held his tongue he did not know, but Edsel gave him a few spanks as if he’d read his mind before pulling his underwear down and engaging in what Wednesday politely called ‘testing the water’.

Once it became clear this was not Edsel’s first rodeo, Wednesday chose to stop thinking, because Edsel was like the straightest guy he’d ever heard of and the idea of him being good at fingering a guy was too incongruous. Like he was part of this super masculine band like ‘ooh I’m a hardass who’s ready for a fight so don’t test me bitch!’, so when did he become good at this? It wasn’t fair.

Then it became clear that Edsel’s fingers were not only skilled but also very _long_ , and Wednesday decided that blushing and squirming at his own noises was a better use of time than thinking too hard. He even had to fucking shuffle his legs about after a minute because the combination of his prostate and Edsel’s fingers were really doing things to him, and it was so good he didn’t want it to stop.

When Edsel finally pushed into him he thought that thought at all was a bit ambitious.

Edsel started off slowly, because quite frankly he did indeed have the biggest dick Wednesday had ever had in him, and Wednesday was glad he was at least self aware about it. Then Edsel’s teasing talk melted away into something else, something he didn’t want to name, and shit Edsel must be really fucking horny to actually call him _babe_ , but then the soothing, praising talk got to Wednesday, and any crowing he would otherwise had said disappeared in a haze of ‘jesus fucking christ’ because this was the best dicking down he’d ever received.

It wasn’t enough for him to cum, he’d never been able to cum without someone touching his cock, and he bit down on his lip instead of releasing the whining building up within him.

Edsel began to speed up, one hand on Wednesday’s hip, the other snaking into his hair. Wednesday tipped his head back and couldn’t hold back his moans anymore; short high whines that penetrated the quiet.

God, he was a slut.

Then Edsel let go of his hair and grabbed at his cock, and he didn’t stop jerking him off until he came so hard he thought he actually might have passed out for a second. Edsel’s orgasm was barely a second thought, just teeth sinking into his neck and a grunt shouted down his spine before he pulled out.

Afterwards he groped uselessly at the table, trying not to fall over, and Edsel left him with a mumble and returned a minute later with a damp washcloth. Wednesday cleaned himself up as best he could and went to pull his clothes back on, screwing his face up at how uncomfortably sticky his underwear was.

“Ahh, dude,” he complained. “You made my underwear sticky.”

Edsel pulled a face right back, hovering next to him anxiously like he really cared. “Not my fault you came in your panties. And you jizzed on the floor.” He rubbed at Wednesday’s shoulder awkwardly, offsetting any prickliness before bending the wipe up the mess. “And don’t call me dude. I came in your mouth, and you came with me in you twice. It’s weird.”

Wednesday called him dude again, just to make him roll his eyes.

“Bitch. You good, though? Want a coffee or something?”

It took a lot not to mock Edsel going into hostess mode, but exhaustion slowly won out. “Please. Aw, fuck.” he stretched. “That was not bad. Great, even.”

Edsel snorted. “High praise from you.” He opened a cupboard to grab a mug and set the kettle going, spooning instant coffee into the mug. Three spoonfuls later he grabbed the milk from the fridge.

“It was one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. There. I said the sappy shit. You enjoyed it?” Wednesday pulled his shirt and jacket on and went to stand by Edsel.

Edsel put his arm around him, pulling him into a hug. “It wasn’t quite what I had in mind for tonight, but I ain’t complaining.”

“No thigh highs though,” Wednesday said in a wheedling tone. Edsel scoffed after the kettle clicked, and poured the water in.

“You’re still insufferable.” He passed the mug.

“You still wanna fuck me again,” Wednesday returned, accepting and adding milk.

“Another time, Weds.” Edsel shook his head with a smile.

The nickname shouldn’t have made Wednesday feel so warm and cozy, but it did. He chose to blame it on the coffee instead.

He took his leave after finishing the coffee, pressing a cheeky kiss to Edsel’s cheek after he made sure he had everything, because making Edsel roll his eyes in amused sufferance was hilarious.

When he got home he texted Acey, to tell to someone how good a night he’d had without having to explain a shitload.

And also because he missed him, and this seemed as good a conversation starter as any.

**Author's Note:**

> IDK if I wanna rail Wednesday or get railed by Edsel so here we are. Also the usual of reminder  
> if I forgot to tag something.
> 
> Take a guess at how much I like hands lol.
> 
> Next fic will be probably the one I got set during the RRUnited sessions.  
> XOXO


End file.
